


Memento Vitae - Time Will Take

by ThePostalDude



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Other, blurbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 22:29:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17692325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePostalDude/pseuds/ThePostalDude
Summary: All killers started somewhere and had their own lives... before they met you. Where did you start?Removed from my Memento Vitae line since killers would keep being added on, and I didn't want to post this one in the middle of it all. This one's special and gets it's own fic.





	Memento Vitae - Time Will Take

     What is eternity to you? What’s time by definition? What about laws? By your standards, what’s alive in your eyes? Time is something you’ve never felt. An abstraction that could never touch your carapace. But you’ve seen this “time” affect the meat. To you, being alive is living beyond a short while. But the meat? The meat is strange to you.

 

     When you began, it was loud and hot, but most of all, it burned bright. You didn’t understand and you may never will. That was some “time” ago. You waited. And you waited. Time scraping your skin as you existed silently. And sometimes, your waiting would see something new; a loud, hot, and  _ bright _ thing on the edge of your reach. And the things that came in the hot masses, were loud, and colorful, “living” meat.

     You’ve come to find that with meat came something substantial. While you never knew much about time or the laws, you started off learning about the meat at a strange spot: their emotions. Through the holes you poked into worlds, you witnessed experiences. The things meat called their lives were rife with overly complex things. There were days where they held each other, and it tasted sweet. They terrorized each other and it was bitter on your maw. They cried for each other, and you were overcome with salt and iron. These tastes were strange, and sometimes you couldn’t stomach it. Even with just a little, it was hard to watch. That’s all you could do back then; you watched.

     Through all of those sensations, though, you found a new flavor. The meat called it “hope”. No matter the situation you saw it in everything. When they loved, they hoped for the future; when they screamed, they hoped to survive; and when they cried their bitter tears, they hoped for better days. While everything was situational, hope was always there. You found that tragedy gave way to the best hope, though. Terror generated the most hope. You fell into a habit of reveling in the meat’s sorrows. The more gruesome, the better. Heavy violence caught your tongue and drew you in like a deep liquor. There was nothing else like it.

 

     That was some “time” ago. You wiped that meat out. Planet after planet, across space and time, you would be confronted with the familiar loud, hot, bright beginning. You would hiss at the cacophony, but the smells would pull you in again and again. You couldn’t help it. What else was there to do than to exist? With your hunger, the canvas of space grew dark. Sometimes you didn’t even kill out of hunger-- you put stars out of their misery just to keep the dark. Their aeonic screams were whispers to you.

     And then a new place formed. This place was different. Back then, there were many loud and hot places-- but after a long while of your chewing, it became quiet again. Like it should have. But with the quiet came scarcity. You would have to savor it. In the quiet darkness of the cosmos and your ever growing reach, you had to make this one small place last. But for how long? The planet was like a peach pit in your hand; it was barely anything. To you, the meat’s lives spanned for minutes. But you had an idea.

 

     You started off meager. You looked to inside of yourself and worked things over-- you were big enough. You could fit suns in you. You  _ had _ fit suns in you. It would work. You studied the meat’s lives and changed yourself. They lived in houses; they had birds; barrels of fire, trees, plants, you name it. You tried to copy them as best as you could. Anything to make the meat comfortable, but nothing too complex. Complexity muddled the intention.

     Next step was getting them there. It seemed hard at first, but you fell into it easily. There were so many windows inside you never knew of before. You snuck into their dreams and whispered, dragging them off into elaborate nightmares-- it wasn’t enough. With your claws, you poked holes into their realities. You laid traps, little rabbit holes the unwary would fall into. There was always the unwary. And besides the unwary, the unkempt. The tragic could be taken easily. No one would think twice of outcasts. But what could generate those flavors so delicate off their skin? Hurting them yourself would take energy and kill them on the spot-- a finality to what could have been saved. And you needed them to last. But that was the next step.

     You reveled in their sorrow and drank their violence. Meat was so violent to each other. You’ve come to find that all meat bleeds and these were no exception. You laid more traps and kept watchful eyes for outcasts once again. Ones who loved their blades and reveled in violence as much as you did. Some needed hard kicks to get them where they are now; you have no problem with hurting. And when it came to the harvest, you would only just take a little; you would slice the smallest sliver of their souls away when they died on those hooks. They needed to last. Those who were there for a few hours in your eyes were husks, ready to hunt for meat or cast away as pits. No matter if they chased the meat for you or were the meat, it was all the same. They were all the same.

 

     Since you saw the birth of this place, you slowly picked away at their numbers, taking what was necessary… at first. You were getting a bit greedy, yes. Your claws reached to copies of the world, taking theirs too. No one ever noticed. No one ever cared. For now you take just a few at a time, stretched out over the worlds-- but what about tomorrow? What if you took more than one in an instance? They were just simple disappearances at first. The meat doesn’t pay attention well enough (the single ones that do care, their sorrow tastes so good) like they do already. The numbers pile up; the years begin to quiet.   
  
     And then it happens. The meat doesn’t understand. One day a town suddenly ghosts. No one’s home. Food left on the stove, some cars in the streets with dead batteries from being left on. No signs of struggle. Animals wandering and looking for their owners. A whole town gone on the fog of an early morning. It makes headlines, for a little while. The meat scramble for an explanation. Their devastation and hope just stokes the engines of your make, fueling what goes on inside of you.

     And then an apartment complex in a major city gets emptied out. One meat comes home from working late, and everyone’s gone. Dead silence, no TVs or buzzing electricity from the other spaces, but there’s a sinking feeling. It tries to sleep in it's bed and you invade it's dreams, whispering in it's ears. After a few days of silence, orderlies come. The landlord is gone too, with you. So funny to think, the one meat that got away-- forced to move somewhere else in the city, and it tells it’s friends how everyone just got up and left in one night. Fog rolling on the city streets around their car.   
  
     What is eternity to you? What’s time by definition? What about laws? By your standards, what’s alive in your eyes? The meat inside of you is not alive. You don’t deem them living-- without your interference, they would have burned out like all the other loud and hot and  _ bright _ stars across the black canvas. They will never reach your age. You’re doing them a favor by putting them to a usage that they will experience nowhere else. In the billions of meat that thrive, what is just a few missing persons without a second thought? Compared to your short while of watching them come to existence, they face eternity.

 

     The numbers pile up. And the years begin to quiet.


End file.
